A Walk in the Lifetime of Angela Weber
by Subtlynice
Summary: If anyone asked me, years later, who my best friend from high school was, I would have responded instantly, with absolute certainty, that her name was Isabella Marie Swan." Angela POV. Not everyone in the Twilight Saga lived forever…


A/N: If anyone's read my Harry Potter fanfics, I tried to match the style of this one to the style of my fanfic _Through a Mother's Eyes_. There are a few differences in the styles though- for starters, I prefer to use first person for Twilight fics and third person for HP. And secondly, I was fifteen when I wrote _Through a Mother's Eyes_, and (though it wasn't _too_ long ago) my writing has changed drastically since then.

Anyway, after writing "Optimism", I couldn't resist another shot at Angela's point of view. Enjoy.

* * *

A Walk in the Lifetime of Angela Weber

If anyone asked me, years later, who my best friend from high school was, I would have responded instantly, with absolute certainty, that her name was Isabella Marie Swan.

And if they enquired further into my friendship with Bella, I would be forced to admit that, although she was definitely the sweetest, kindest, most genuine girl I'd ever met, I barely knew the shy girl from Phoenix, and I certainly hadn't seen much of her at all after our graduation.

So, then, they would ask. Why her?

And that would be a difficult question to answer. Why Bella? I could very easily have replied that Ben was my best friend- after all, he knew me better than Bella ever had, we had first met in high school, and he really, truly was the sweetest, kindest, most genuine man I'd ever met.

I suppose, if I were honest with myself, it was because I could never truly let go of Bella's story. I still wonder about her, even now, after so many years. I still remember that last time we met, as though it were only yesterday.

My memories of the first time we met are a little fuzzier. I remember the gossip though- everyone had been babbling about the new student for _weeks_ before she'd arrived. And I remember pitying her - she seemed as shy as I was, and she had so much attention to put up with.

Time moved on though, and the gossip died down. At least for a few weeks, anyway. Then, it started back up again in full force when she and Edward Cullen- her future husband –first became an item. But that's a different story.

This is mine. My story about Isabella Cullen. The real Isabella Cullen. The girl who will live forever. At least, that's my theory.

Her life wasn't all cafeteria gossip material and beautiful boyfriends, though. Bella went through a rough patch for a while, when the Cullens left Forks High. I'm still only just beginning to understand _why_ those seven months affected her the way they did. I suppose, when life lifts you to its very highest, greatest peaks, you only have further to fall. When Edward Cullen left Forks, I think Bella Swan did too. Her body wandered the corridors, empty and lost. But her soul, her very essence… was gone.

She tried. She really did try to get better. And she succeeded - she pulled herself through it, and was still in one piece to greet Edward warmly when he returned from LA. But he came back to a different Bella, and I think he realised that. Again, my memories betray me after so much time, but I think… sometimes, when Edward looked into her eyes… he looked sad. As if he knew and regretted how much hurt he'd caused her in the past.

One thing I do remember with absolute clarity is the day I received the wedding invitation. I'd called her immediately, a little bit scared for my friend, and wanting to know if this was a joke, or a mistake, or perhaps even wanting confirmation. She had winced her way through our conversation, and I could imagine her blushing on the other end of the telephone line, but she had sounded so happy. Deliriously happy, in fact. Although that could have had something to do with Edward Cullen taking the telephone halfway through her stuttering affirmation to inform me that his _fiancée_ was very busy "preparing for her wedding day" and really couldn't possibly stay on the phone for a moment longer.

She had looked so beautiful on her wedding day - radiant and glowing with life. The blushing bride had even outshone her lovely bridesmaid, and no bridegroom had ever looked happier than Edward Cullen. So what if they were to young? It had been right, and I knew it from the moment I saw their beaming faces.

I'd had very little time to speak to her that day, and I was worried that it would be our last chance to ever talk properly, but we'd chatted and laughed and she'd looked so happy that I forgot all about my qualms. She'd thrown her bouquet, as was tradition, and I'd caught it without even meaning to do so. It had been worth it though, just for the terrified look on Ben's face. As it turned out, Ben and I _were_ the first of the guests present to marry- only it took him quite some time to work up the nerve to propose.

I didn't speak to her again after that day.

It was understandable at first - she was on her honeymoon after all, and she couldn't be expected to contact everyone in her life immediately after she got back. But then, I heard the devastating news, from Chief Swan himself.

Disease. Quarantined. Transferred to the Alaskan Centre for Disease Control. The whole town was in a frenzied state of gossip - before their wedding, the only thing anyone could talk about was how young they were and it would never last more than a few months… now, that seemed like a very realistic possibility.

I was shocked. My mind was in turmoil - I couldn't get the image of Charlie Swan's despairing face from my mind. And the thoughts of what Edward must be going through… it was enough to drive anyone insane with worry.

It seemed rude to visit Chief Swan asking for updates on Bella's condition- especially because he knew so little himself. I was therefore left in a state of frantic, desperate panic for three long weeks.

Until one day, when Ben had commented on Chief Swan's apparent mood swing, and I had rushed down to Bella's old house immediately.

"No, no… she's…" Charlie seemed at a loss for words. "Fine," he said finally, though I could tell that this wasn't necessarily the word he would originally have used described his daughter's condition. "She's fine. No more disease. It's all okay now."

He sounded tired, in a state of shock, brought on by the relief, I suspected. Still, I pressed for more information.

"Is she still in Alaska? Is she allowed visitors?"

"No!" Chief Swan said quickly, making me jump back in alarm. "No, no… it's best not to… not to… I don't think she'll be allowed visitors. She needs… needs rest… and… peace…"

I could tell he was on the edge of losing it- consciousness, his mind, I wasn't really sure –so I gave him my thanks and drove back to Ben's house, my fears soothed temporarily.

It was one month later, when I was just settling into university, that I received my first email from Isabella Cullen. It was… unsettling to say the least. She'd apologised for leaving it so late to contact me, and asked about me, and Ben and collage… but not given one single detail on her own life. She hadn't even mentioned the disease that had left her quarantined and dispatched to Alaska. No mention of how things were with her new husband, no mention of Dartmouth… it was as if Isabella Cullen didn't exist. As if the message had been computer generated. And it had scared me.

I read it through, once, twice, three times. Where were the details of her recovery, the campus scandals, the joys of married life? I knew Bella wasn't one to exaggerate an illness, or crave attention, but to blow it off completely? It sounded like a hastily written excuse. A pretence from someone unused to deception. I had written back quickly, describing my own college life, the dismal weather, and the latest horror involving Ben's martial arts obsession. I asked her a few questions about her own life too, especially about her illness, trying futilely to coax some answers from her.

_We should meet up sometime, _ I suggested tentatively, before signing my name and sending the email.

She never replied.

It hurt my feelings, but I tried not to let it show. Ben saw through me, of course, and suggested asking Chief Swan for a contact number, but I told him I didn't want a fuss. Bella didn't want to talk to me- that was obvious. I didn't mind. I didn't expect to keep in touch with everyone. It would have been nice, but I knew deep down that it would never work. Bella was a married woman. She was growing up, getting on with her life, leaving high school behind her.

* * *

I wasn't surprised at all when Ben proposed. Actually, I'd been waiting for years.

"I was trying to fine the right time," he'd confessed after blushing profusely and stammering his proposal and being greeted with the word, _"yes!"_ and then later, _"finally!"_

And it hadn't mattered to me that Ben had only worked up the nerve to propose _months_ after actually buying the damn ring. Ben and I were happy - we were out of university, finally settled down into regular jobs, and enjoying just being together. Marriage seemed almost unnecessary, but he had insisted.

"What's the point of being with the most beautiful woman in the world if I don't have a ring and a piece of paper to prove she wants me there?" he'd teased.

When it came to wedding planning, there was a lot to be done. I could now see why people were paid to do this professionally- it made my head hurt to think about all the table arrangements and possible caterers. If I had to see one more flower arrangement I'd probably have burst into tears. There was one part of the arrangement I was looking forward to though: the guest list. I'd lost contact with too many people over the last few years. It was the perfect excuse to be reunited with them.

I didn't have an address for Bella, and it felt childish to ask her father, so I settled for using her old email address. I didn't expect a reply, but I desperately wanted Bella to show. If only there were another way of letting her know about the celebration!

Finally, I'd relented and visited the Chief policeman of Forks. His reply to my queries on his daughter's whereabouts though, were hedgy and suspicious.

"Ben Cheney and I are getting married," I'd explained, unable to keep the smile from my lips as I said so, "and I'd like to invite Bella and Edward."

Chief Swan had hesitated before he replied.

"Er…" he'd said, obviously struggling to find the right words with which to reply. "You see… the thing is, Bella's kind of… _busy_ with things right now, so… she might not have time for a visit… or even time to reply."

Charlie's eyes had narrowed infinitesimally in that second of hesitation, and that was when I realised that he knew something I didn't. But what was it? Was Bella in trouble? Did she just not want to see me?

"Could you pass on the message anyway?" I asked, defeated, giving up all hope of ever seeing her again. "I really would like it if she could be there."

His answering smile was strained, but it was also sympathetic, as if he too had been on the receiving end of one too many of these _busy_ excuses.

"Sure, kid. And hey - congratulations. Ben's a good man."

I smiled in return, hoping he understood that I too, was sympathetic.

* * *

Four months later, I was standing at an alter and saying "I do" while my father officiated and announced me Angela Cheney.

It _was_ the happiest day of my life. Just like all the cheesy movies and reminiscing elderly woman had told me it would be.

But although nothing could ever compare to the feeling of Ben's arms around my waist as we danced our first dance as husband and wife, it was the best day of my life for more reasons than one.

I had been worrying subconsciously about Isabella Cullen for five years until now. It was nice to finally let those fears pass.

It was much later, and the party was in full throw; guests were tipsily congratulating the wrong couple, the DJ had began to play the really awful tracks they always leave until last, and Ben was dancing uncomfortably with one of my many aunts, who was leering down at him drunkenly, while he looked beseechingly towards me to save him from my family.

Laughing, I'd stepped outside for a breather. That was when I saw them.

There were ten of them. Ten unnoticed guests, lingering outside, as if waiting for an invitation. At first, I made my way to invite them to join the party inside; and then I stopped.

These were no ordinary latecomers.

Carlisle, Esme, Emmett and Rosalie stood slightly behind the others. Jasper too, was further away, with a concentrated, worried frown etched into his beautiful face, as if he were in pain, or doing his very best to rein himself in. As if he _wanted_ to join the party inside, but thought better of it. Little Alice Cullen stood slightly in front of him, holding his hand reassuringly. She was smiling beautifully at me.

In the foreground were four other guests - two I knew well, one I had seen in Bella's company before quite regularly, but never spoken to. The other, I had never met before in my life, although there was something strangely familiar about her features.

I could name three of these four though: Edward. Bella. Jacob.

Their faces shocked me more than their arrival.

Because, beautiful and otherworldly as they were, with the exception of Bella, they all looked exactly the same as they had five years ago.

And when I say exactly, I mean _exactly_. Identical. It could have been the next day- for one wild moment I wondered whether the last five years had all been a dream, and I was still eighteen years old.

It was another shock for me when I noticed Bella's old friend Jacob Black standing with them, wrinkling his nose up slightly, but grinning just the same. He hadn't changed either. His russet coloured skin stood out among the chalky pallor of his peers, but he too was strong and youthful and handsome, and looking not a day over… well, actually, he _did_ look about twenty-five or so, but he had always looked that old, so it was difficult to judge his aging.

A petite young woman of around fifteen or sixteen stood slightly behind Jacob Black, peering over his shoulder with interest. It looked as though he was shielding her, for some strange reason I couldn't fathom. Her reddish-brown curls were remarkably reminiscent of Edward's- a long-lost relative, perhaps? But then, as her interested brown eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, I knew that – although it was impossible – this was no sister or cousin of Edward's.

And after all, weren't all of them impossible? Isabella Cullen, at twenty-three years of age, looked just as youthful and beautiful as she had on her own wedding day.

But this wasn't entirely true. If it were possible, she was more beautiful now. She was still Bella, her stance, her face, her expression were all undoubtedly those of the same Bella I had befriended in high school, but she was different. Her eyes - like the rest of the Cullens' – were like those of a cat- a fiery golden colour that you just didn't find on humans. Her features were all… enhanced somehow, as if beauties such as her sisters-in-law had been giving her skincare advice.

Of course, even if I really didn't want to admit it to myself, I knew there was a lot more to this than exceptional skincare. She looked _eighteen_ still, for God's sake! They all did! And then there was the bronze-haired teenager to consider…

I studied Bella's face carefully. She was breathtaking; her presence was almost ethereal. Now that I was finally seeing her again, it didn't seem true. There was something graceful in the way she held herself; she seemed much more confident than she had been before. Her skin was deathly pale, but her gold-tinted eyes glinted with life. Crinkles formed around them; but not from age- from the small smile playing around her lips.

And then I realised. It didn't matter. I didn't care how, or where, or by whom. Bella was happy with the path she'd chosen, and that was enough to put my mind at rest.

Beside her, Edward Cullen breathed a small sigh, seeming relieved by something. I watched, astounded, as he smiled at me and wrapped his arms around his wife in a breathtakingly loving embrace which told me all I needed to know about his happiness too.

They didn't approach me; they didn't even stay longer than for Bella to give me a quick wave and mouth "_Congratulations_". We didn't speak to each other, and even though I was disappointed by such an anti-climatic appearance, I understood why they needed to make a quick exit. If anyone else were to see them… even from a distance, it hadn't been hard to make out their exquisite faces…

Still, the following morning, I had sent Bella an email from the laptop Ben had considerately brought with us to France.

_Thank you,_ was all I wrote.

I received her reply the day we returned from the honeymoon- it was almost as if she'd known, and planned it for that day. It was almost as short as my message had been.

_Anytime, Angela. You're always welcome._

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A/N: I realised after writing this, that the ending is practically identical to a planned chapter in my own book… oh well. I guess the inspiration for this piece came from… myself!

Reviewers will be given cyber-space hugs and kisses!


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